Blessed Be
by Aindel S. Druida
Summary: As the wizarding world works to rebuild what was lost during the war and carry on with their lives, a more powerful evil rises. Will Harry and his friends be able to stop it? And what part does Draco Malfoy play in all of this? DMHG
1. Prologue

A/N: I have no idea why I'm writing this.  Well, okay, I do.  It's partly 'cause I want to see Sharon's reaction, and partly 'cause I feel like it.

WARNING: This will, in many ways, be the highly stereotypical Draco/Hermione fic.  I may add in a few bits of my own, but it will be the same story as all the others for a lot.  But I mean, lets face it, how many ways are there really to get Draco and Hermione together? … My point exactly.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter.  If I did, I wouldn't be stupid enough to post it on the Internet.  No one's THAT brainless.  The Norns themselves belong to mythology.  The names given to them and their location (and possibly their description) belong to Lloyd Alexander, because I was too lazy to come up with my own.

Prologue

            Mist and fog enveloped the cottage.  Mud bubbled in the dank swamp as the crow called out into the dense air.  Snakes slithered through the dirt, and one darted out of the way just in time as a rotted tree fell over onto the place he was not a second ago.  The cottage lay in the center of this revolting place.  It was old, and nearly crumbling, with wooden sides and a sod (HAHA…sorry) roof.  At first glance, it would seem abandoned.  However, if one were brave enough to walk up to the cottage and press his nose to the window, he would see that it was not at all empty.  

            In a sense, it was the home of only one being, but in another sense, it was the home of three.  Sisters lived here, each a part of the greater being called Fate.  One represented the past, another the present, and the third, future.  They were the Fates, the Norns, the witches of a place called Morva in an age long passed.  They sat at looms, weaving and chattering.  

They could appear however they wish, but two appearances were their favorites.  The first was seldom beheld by mortal man: three maids of fierce beauty, almost too much to bear, with flowing gold tresses and pale, flawless skin.  The other was most often used when visitors came about, or when they grew tired of being beautiful: ugly old hags, dressed in black.  The first sister, Orddu, who was eldest and represented past, wore a simple black robe, tied at the waist with a black sash.  Her hair was a long tangled mess of dark hair mixed with jeweled combs and other such accessories.  Her face would seem kind and inviting, but one look in her eyes told that she was sly and cunning.  Orwen, who was present, also wore a black robe.  She was plump, unlike her sisters, and wore as many pearl necklaces around her large neck as she could manage.  Her hair was also dark and thick, but was straight, and without the many decorations that Orddu wore.  She was also cunning, but held more compassion than the others.  Orgoch was the most sinister of the three.  It would be hard for one to describe her features, because a coarse black cloak hid almost all of her.  She always seemed aggravated by something, and if something took her fancy or amused her, she would not readily show it.  It was she who always made sure their guests never revealed their secrets.

And so they sat, weaving, in their hag form, when Orwen stood up from her chair.  "It has happened."

"Indeed it has, Sister.  I feel it also."

"I told you that the one called the Dark Lord would be destroyed, did I not, Sisters?" responded Orgoch.

Orddu nodded once to her sister in order to keep her from gloating.  "He called Harry Potter has fulfilled his purpose then."

"His burden is lighter now.  He grieves much, but he is happier."

"He won't stay that way," said Orgoch.  "The old Dark Lord is gone, but a new evil will rise up from the ashes of these events.  No mortal is safe yet, Sisters."

All was silent in the cottage for a moment, before the witches turned their attention back to their weaving.  At a close look, one would have been able to see that the pattern they wove showed many different pictures of a boy with raven-colored hair, bright green eyes, and a scar near the middle of his forehead.

A/N: GYYYAHHHH!!! I can't get this thing to stop INDENTING!!!!!…Never mind…I got it.  Hehehe.  Well, anyway, that was…interesting.  I just sort of typed.  I didn't really have much of a plan for the prologue, except that Voldemort was going to die, and the fates were going to be in this.  This story is what happens when you read too much fan fiction in one day.

I have no life whatsoever.  I really don't.  I need a job.  I'm nearly broke.

Since I have no reviews (duh, it's the first chapter), I will use this space as a birthday shout-out to two of my friends:

HAPPY 16TH BIRTHDAY MEG (Apr. 8) AND SHARON (Apr. 9)!!!!!

In case anyone cares, this will take place during 7th year (HEY…I didn't realize my computer did that for numbers…cool!).  It will be D/Hr and H/G.  Ron gets no one.  Why?  Because I want him to suffer! Muahahahhaha!  *Ahem* Sorry.  I don't like Ron.  Ron deserves to die.  Maybe he will in later chapters.  Right now I need him for his dense comic relief.

If you want to BETA this story, leave me a note in your review.  If you want me to e-mail you when I update, leave your address in the review.  

I NEED HELP WITH A TITLE.  Should I keep this one?  Do you have a better idea?  Let me know!

R&R people!!! 

~§ Aindel §~

*Borrowing Shar's language*

Adolnda ta, Errield.   


	2. A New Year OR That Horribly Annoying But...

A/N: Oh look, I got –NO- reviews.  Thanks, people.  I feel really appreciated.  I'm now only continuing this fic because I like it.  Otherwise I wouldn't have enough self-esteem to write the first five words…Ok, I'm exaggerating a BIT much, but I do feel unloved.

However, since no one reviewed, I have to use up that space by ranting on and on about nothing much at all.  So, I GOT THE HARRY POTTER DVD.  Yes, I realize so did just about everyone else in the country, but I don't care.  I still have it.  It's MINE.  Quite literally, too.  I was going to buy it with my own money, but I didn't have quite enough, and then I remembered that my mom owed me twenty-five bucks, so she bought it for me instead of paying me the cash.  It's MINE.  I OWN it.  Not my sisters; ME.  I did that spellcaster's knowledge thing.  Not only did I get perfect, but before they showed the clip, I could tell you what the spell was, what happened in the movie, and what was SUPPOSED to happen (*coughRictumsempracough*).  There's another thing that really bugs me.  Which does not belong?:  Lumos, Nox, Finite Incantatem, Eat Slugs…EXACTLY!  Will someone please explain to me how "eat slugs" became a SPELL?

…Just think.  If you had reviewed, you wouldn't have had to listen to that rant.  Isn't that a great incentive?    

DISCLAIMER: It's not mine.  I don't own it.  I deny everything.  Draco and Oliver are NOT locked up inside my closet.  Nope.  Really.  There's nothing at all in there. ;D

Chapter 1

            Everyone sat at their table, looking at the Headmaster.  The Sorting Ceremony had just finished, and it was time for Dumbledore's annual welcoming address to the students.

            "I welcome you here, new students and old, to Hogwarts.  I am sure that this year will be, in may ways, much more enjoyable than the past few, since a few, ah, hinderances have been removed."  The entirety of the Great Hall looked over at the Gryffindor table, specifically, at Harry Potter.  "In that same thread of thought, let us bow our heads for a silent moment to remember those who did not live to see that happy day."  All the students and teachers looked at their plates.  Some of the many people had tears flowing from their cheeks, thinking of parents, siblings, relatives, and friends who had been killed by Voldemort and his Death Eaters.  After a minute, Dumbledore raised his head and resumed his speech.  "But let us not move into depression by pitying ourselves.  We will look fondly upon the memories of these people, but we shall not let them barricade our lighter emotions.  With that said, tuck in."  The old man sat down, and food appeared on the four house tables.

            "Bloody old coot," said Ron Weasley, helping himself to a rather large serving of mashed potatoes.  "Thought he'd never get to the point!"

            "Ronald Weasley, how can you say that?" shrieked the voice of a seventeen-year old Head Girl Hermione Granger.  "Do you have any idea how many people lost their families over the past few years?"

            "Well," he replied while covering his entire plate with gravy, "I'm not sure of the exact number, but I'm sure you've read it in a book somewhere, so you really don't need to ask me."

            "But…you…they…grr," was Hermione's only response.

            Harry laughed.  "Relax, 'Mione."

            "But Harry, he's being so insensitive!  I should think you would appreciate the need for that speech."

            "Yes," said Harry seriously.  He turned to look at his red-haired friend, who was busy shoveling gravy-covered green beans into his mouth.  "But I also appreciate the need for a good meal!"

            Hermione shook her head.  She would never understand Harry.  It was amazing that one who had suffered so much since his birth could so easily brush aside something with a laugh.  And yet, maybe it was because he had suffered so much at a young age that he could live without permanent depression.  He hadn't even known his parents.  Harry hadn't been around them long enough to grow consciously attached to them.  It was merely that instinctive attraction between child and parents that he would have felt. 

            "So 'Mione, how does it feel to be Head Girl?"

            "Honestly Gin, I don't really feel any different.  It's a lot like having a birthday.  You don't just wake up and feel a year older.  It feels the exact same."

            Ginny giggled.  "I know what you mean.  It's the same thing with being a prefect."

            "Bloody brainy people," Ron muttered.

            "Need I remind you, Ron, that if you actually ever DID your work, you might also be viewed as intelligent?"

            "Weasley?  Intelligent?" piped Seamus.  "Hermione, Ron has about as good of a chance of being seen 'smart' as Neville has of remembering to pack everything for school!"

            "As a matter of fact," Neville butted in, "I didn't forget to pack a single thing in my trunk!"

            "Good for you, Neville!" said Hermione, smiling at the plump boy.

            "Really, Neville?"  Dean sounded awestruck.

            "Yeah!" he answered.  "I just sort of…forgot…to bring my trunk," finished Neville sheepishly.  All of Gryffindor table burst into laughter.

            Once dinner was over, the prefects led their houses to the respective dormitories and common room.  Hermione walked off to Dumbledore's office as she had been asked.  As she walked, she glanced at her surroundings.  She saw many portraits that she had met before, and waved to them.  At the end of one hallway, she noticed a picture she had seen during her third year, and never forgotten.  Hermione walked up to the painting.  "Sir Cadogan!"

            The over-enthusiastic knight raised his visor and bowed.  "Gentle Lady, good greeting!"

            She blushed at being called 'Lady'.  Not that she minded, it was just that she was unaccustomed to being addressed in such a manner.  "My name is Hermione, Sir.  I see you were moved from your old hanging place."

            "Indeed, Lady Hermione.  I was asked by the great Headmaster to stand at this post and greet all who came by here."  He sounded pleased by this assignment.

            "I'm sure it's a very important job.  Have you greeted many people so far?"

            "The Headmaster, that ruffian gamekeeper, a few prospective teachers, the Minister for Magic (he puffed out his chest importantly at that name), and there was one other just a few minutes ago.  Now who was he…?"  Cadogan leaned on his sword for a moment and thought.  "Ah, yes!  The new Head Boy.  Not the nicest of chaps, but he seems quite tip-top in the brains department."

            "That's wonderful!  I would love to stay and chat some more, but I'm late for a meeting with the Headmaster right now."

            Sir Cadogan jumped up.  "I shall escort you, fair Lady Hermione!  Come with me!"  He began to walk toward the Headmaster's office, but Hermione stopped him.

            "Oh no, it's quite alright.  You're needed here!  What if someone was to come by, and you weren't here to greet them.  You'd be neglecting the task given to you by Professor Dumbledore, and I wouldn't want to lose you your job."

            "You are right of course, Lady.  I regret I cannot escort you, but duty calls.  Farewell, Lady Hermione, and I look forward to our next meeting."  The knight bowed to Hermione.  She gave a small curtsy before running down the hall to the office.

            _That man is absolutely mad, but quite entertaining_, thought Hermione.  _I wonder who the Head Boy is?_ (Like we don't already know)

            She reached the gargoyle that blocked the staircase to Dumbledore's office, only to meet the Headmaster practically head-on (dear god that was a bad pun.  It was not intended.  I apologize).  "Professor Dumbledore, I am so sorry I'm late.  You see…"

            "It is quite alright, Miss Granger, quite alright.  Our Head Boy has just run up for a few things I left behind in my office.  I thought we could meet outside instead, since it is such a lovely evening, and I could use a nice walk."

            "Of course, Professor."

            "Ah, here he is now!"

            The sound of grinding stone was heard behind them as the gargoyle sprang aside to reveal the staircase.  Hermione turned to see the new Head Boy, the person she would be working in collaboration with for the rest of the year, and froze.  _Oh no.  No no no no no.  Not HIM.  Of all the people in our year, not him!_

Standing on the bottom stair, arrogant as ever, a smirk on his face and the papers clutched in his hand, was none other than Draco Malfoy.

A/N: Gee, I'll bet none of you were expecting that, were you?  I TOLD you it would be a typical D/Hr story.  And when I say typical, I mean TYPICAL.  Don't worry; there will be plot twists.  I wouldn't bother writing this if it was going to be the EXACT same as the others.

Seeing as no one reviewed, I am still in need of a BETA.  I would also like your opinions on the title.  It's kind of growing on me, but if you can suggest something better, I might change it.

I've made an executive decision.  Well, not really, since it IS just me, but I like using that phrase.  This story will be mainly D/Hr, with a side H/G plotline.  However, Harry is still going to be the "hero".  He just won't be exploited as the main character.  Does that make ANY sense???

See you in the next chapter.

REVIEW.  PRESS THE PURPLE-ISH BUTTON!

I'm really going to leave soon.

ALL HAIL REVIEWERS.

Seriously, I am going to shut my computer off now.

I LOVE REVIEWS!

*Nice people in white coats drag Aindel away from the keyboard*

…. Riiiiiiiiiight.  I'm tired.  

Later Days!

Please tell me I didn't just type that.

All readers: (in unison) GO AWAY!

Aindel: Bye!


	3. Kraestrayn

A/N: Aindel got REVIEWS!  Oh my GOD!  I think I'm going to have a heart attack!  …Just kidding.  Thanks, guys…girls…whatever…you get the idea.

DKFairy- soon enough for you?

Becca- I'll try.  Glad you like it.  As of right now, so do I, but I don't know how long that will last.

As of right now, this fic is my baby.  That will change.  Last month, TSS was my baby, and I don't like it anymore.  Well, not entirely, but I'm sort of brain-dead.

Thanks to my reviewers, you don't have to hear me rant.  See you at the end of the chapter.  This one will probably be short.

Chapter 2 

~ This chapter is dedicated to Becca because she was my first reviewer~

            The forest was covered in blackness.  There were no city lights nearby, and the trees blocked the light from the stars and moon.  Bugs crawled about in the darkness, scuttling along branches and climbing across leaves.  The wind whistled through the tall oaks and ashes (the tree, not the embers), blowing some leaves that had fallen early across the forest floor.  Owl calls mingled with the rustling and whistling, but other than those, there was no sound in the woods.

            Suddenly, a large shape hurtled from the sky and landed with a crash among the trees.  Birds flew every which way, and insects of all types hurried for cover.  The shape was a dragon, a Peruvian Vipertooth, seventeen feet long, with glittering copper scales.  It folded its wings, extended its neck, and sank its venomous fangs into the sleeping young fawn it had smelled from so far above.  The vipertooth devoured its prey before glancing around at its surroundings.  The dragon recognized the territory.  She was close enough to her goal.  It was in this forest that she would make her home for now.           

            The forest in which the female dragon found herself was toward the southern tip of Wales.  From here, it would be a short flight indeed to her final destination.  A serpentine tongue slithered out of her mouth to lick away the blood that stuck to her fang.  She sniffed the air.  There was other prey about.  She would not go hungry in this place.

            She glanced upward, and saw the moon through the trees of which she had broken off branches in her dive; it was full.  Her reared up, and a dark light shone around her.  She began to shrink, and her wings and tail receded into her body.  When the light was gone, a woman stood where one of the world's most dangerous dragons had been moments before.  

            The woman was dangerously beautiful.  Her flowing black hair was tinted with gold, and her skin was tanned a perfect bronze.  A pair of onyx eyes gleamed in the darkness as her perfect body stepped noiselessly among the leaves and branches.  She walked over to where a large boulder lay in a small clearing and sat on it.  Her eyes closed as she sent a message with her mind.  _Come to me; I am here._  She opened her eyes and waited.

            Seven figures appeared in the clearing.  They stared at the woman before them.  "Who are you?" a hard voice demanded from under a cloak.  "Answer me, woman!"

            The woman laughed, but there was no mirth in her voice.  "Do you really want to know?"  Before the voice could respond, the woman flicked her fingers toward him.  He crumpled silently to the ground before his body disappeared.  "Let that be a lesson to any here who would challenge me."  She paused for a moment, and then spoke once more.  "I know who you are, and every detail of your pathetic lives.  You once served the one who called himself the Dark Lord, but he has failed.  You are all that is left of your order at the moment.  You now serve me."  One figure tentatively stepped forward.  The woman turned toward them.  "Was there something you wished to say, Lucius?" she asked, as though tempting him to challenge her.

            "I only wished to know the name of my mistress," replied the man under the cloak, unperturbed by her challenge, "and what your purpose for us shall be."

            "Very well.  You shall know the answers you seek.  My name is Kraestrayn, but to you I am 'Lady' or 'Mistress'.  To speak my name in my presence is forbidden of you.  Your purpose will be any task I command.  I have not decided yet exactly what part you will serve in my plans.  You will come as soon as you are called, as you did tonight.  You will here my voice when I command you.  You will leave me now, all of you but Lucius."

            The other five wizards disapparated.  Lucius Malfoy stood in place, staring at Kraestrayn, waiting to be commanded.  When she said nothing, he spoke.  "What did you wish of me, Lady?"

            "Make sure that Avery's wife does not report him missing,"

            "How shall I do so?"

            Kraestrayn grinned maliciously, revealing her slightly elongated, pointed canines.  "However you wish."

A/N: Yep.  That's it.  I told you it would be short.  That was a pathetic chapter.  I was kind of bored, and decided to introduce the Dark Lady.  By the way, the pronunciation of her name (Kraestrayn) is CRAY(like the fish)-strain(like the bowl with holes in it).  Got it?  Get it?  Good.

            Now then, you had all better review, or there will be a large rant in the next chapter.  The next chapter will probably be VERY short, because the Norns will be in it.  I think.  I'm not sure at the moment.  I might combine two chapters.

            I'm hungry.  I can't wait until supper.  We're having fish and chips.  You really don't care, though, do you? 

            I had no idea she was going to be a dragon-lady.  I had no idea she was actually going to be a she.  Let me know what you think of her.  In other words (again), REVIEW! 

            If there are a lot of mistakes, it's because I still need a BETA reader.  Let me know if you're interested.  Anyone who leaves me his or her (more likely her) e-mail will be notified when I update.

Toodles.

~§ Aindel §~    


	4. Heads or Tails?

**WARNING: ** This fic WILL be hard to follow.  There are various interweaving plotlines that I must write, and some chapters may interrupt the doings of other characters in the previous chapter.

THIS CHAPTER PICKS UP FROM CHAPTER 2

A/N: Hello all! …Is there any one there? …Hello?  

            The reason I say that is because, once again, I received absolutely NO reviews.  If you read this, REVIEW!  I don't care if you hate my fic.  Tell me what you hate about it, and I'll try to fix it.

            I have absolutely nothing to talk about.  I'm only writing this because I'm bored.  There may be some things I do that we know are impossible, or would generally not be done, but I have to use them.  There really is no other way to do it.

Happy Reading!  See you at the bottom!

DISCLAIMER: I still don't own anything.

Chapter 3

            Dumbledore sat on a rock near the lake, with Hermione sitting on the ground in front of him, Draco leaning on a tree to her left.  Dumbledore had thought this would be a lovely place to "discuss matters", as he put it.  

            "Now then," the Headmaster began, "I believe we should discuss the duties you will be responsible for as Head Boy and Girl.  You must organize the Prefects' patrolling schedule, be sure that no students are out of bed past curfew, a duty which the prefects will also see to, and, this year, it has been decided that the Head Boy and Girl will plan a social gathering of some sort or another."

            "A social event?  What sort of social event do you mean, Professor?" asked Hermione.  She had a good idea of what Professor Dumbledore meant, but she hoped she was wrong.

            "I mean, Miss Granger, something along the lines of a ball or party.  Something that will stimulate inter-house relationships."

            Draco stood up straight from his slouched position on the tree.  "If that's all then, Professor, I'll be heading back to my Common Room. I'm rather tired."

            Hermione glared at Draco.  _How dare he!  Talking to the Headmaster like that, I'm surprised he hasn't been expelled!_  Dumbledore held up his hand.  "But that is not all, Mister Malfoy.  As Head students, the two of you are granted your own sleeping quarters and common room, if you wish."  He paused, waiting for their answer.

            "No, Professor.  It's all right. We're fine where we are," Hermione responded quickly.  There was no way that she was going to spend a year sharing a common room with Malfoy.

            "Actually, Professor, I disagree with Granger.  My own common room and quarters would be beneficial to my studies," Draco drawled, smirking at Hermione.

            "I see," said Dumbledore.  "I cannot allow only one person to use that area.  It must either be both of you, or neither.  Since the two of you seem to not agree, I believe we shall use a form of Muggle decision making that I find quite helpful in theses situations."  Hermione saw Draco's look of disgust at the mention of something muggle-ish.  "We shall toss a coin."  Dumbledore searched his robes.  "Ah…Do either of you have a coin on your person?  I seem to not have one."

            "A Malfoy keeps his money away until it is needed, to prevent theft," sneered Draco.

            Hermione rolled her eyes.  "I have one, Professor."  She reached inside her robe pocket and pulled out a bronze knut.  She handed the coin to Dumbledore.

            "Thank you, Miss Granger.  Now, let's see… yes!  Heads, you reside in your own quarters, tails, you remain in your house dormitories.  One, two three…" Dumbledore flipped the knut in the air and caught it.  He placed it on his wrist and covered it with his hands.  Slowly, he uncovered it, and held out his hand for the two Heads to see.

            _Oh God.  It's heads.  Could this year possibly get any worse?_

                                                                                  ***** 

            Orwen stood over the boiling cauldron of water, stirring slowly.  Orgoch stepped over to the cauldron with various herbs in her hand.  One by one, she threw them into the large black pot.  Orddu walked into the room and stopped to look at the boiling contents.  "Is it ready, sisters?"

            The spoon was raised from the pot.  "Indeed, Orddu."

            "Then let us begin."

            The sisters who are one formed a circle around the bubbling cauldron.  They joined their raised hands, and recited a spell.  Thick, visible vapors rose from the cauldron.  The Norns tilted back their heads and inhaled deeply.  In their minds, a picture appeared, then another, and another.  The future flashed before their immortal eyes.

            In an instant, the vapors disappeared.  The cottage returned to its former state.  The sisters dropped their hands and brought their heads back to a normal position.  Orwen flicked her fingers, and the cauldron disappeared, along with its rapidly cooling contents.

            "Harry Potter will be in danger."

            "Hs friends must help him."

            "Will he make the choice?"

            "Sisters, we must wait.  The Boy Who Lived will choose as he must."

                                                                                 ***** 

            "Are you really serious?  You have to share a dormitory with Malfoy?!"

            Hermione sighed.  "For the fifth time, Ron, yes.  I have to share a dormitory with Malfoy.  I told you, it wasn't my choice!  I lost to luck, fair and square."

            "That's mental!  What goes on in the mind of that barmy codger?  Doesn't he realize that Malfoy will probably try to kill you?"

            Harry stepped in.  "Ron, I think Hermione is smart enough that she can hold her own in a fight."

            "But what if he attacks her in her sleep?  How does she protect herself then?"

            "I'm sure that she can ward herself against that somehow.  You're probably not making her feel any better with those 'What ifs'." 

            "Will you two _please_ stop talking about me as though I'm not here?  It's very irritating.  And that will be enough on the subject, Ron.  If Dumbledore has said that I'm to sleep in the Head dormitory, then I trust his judgment."

            "But- -."

            "No, Ron."

            Ron let out an exasperated sigh and threw up his hands.  "Alright then, 'Mione, but if you die, don't say I didn't warn you."

            Hermione looked at him.  "A person can't say much of anything when they're dead, can they?"  Ron closed his eyes and shook his head.  "Well, come on you two, help me with this trunk.  I refuse to make the house elves do it."

            The three Gryffindors lifted the heavy trunk and set off through the portrait hole.

A/N: Because I am a mean person, I'm going to end it here.  Also, I kind of have to do my homework.  Stupid school.

            As always, if you want me to e-mail you when I update, say so in your review.  Don't forget to give me your address.  Also, leave a note in your review if you want to BETA.

See you all in the next chapter!

~§ Aindel §~         


	5. Can we say Gryffindor?

A/N: BETA BETA BETA BETA BETA BETA BETA BETA BETA!!!!!  I still need one!!!!!

            Anyway, hello again!  It's me, the Head…oh dear God!  (Any of you who don't get that, NEVER MIND, you don't want to know)  I know it's been a while since I updated, but I've been busy with homework, babysitting, homework, guys (okay, fine, THINKING about guys…Like I would actually have a boyfriend.  Ha!), homework, newspaper article, and (you guessed it!) more homework.  

            YAY!  My birthday's coming up!  On May 21st!  *Watches as her readers wave small flags in her honor while looking like they couldn't care less*

DISCLAIMER: Own nada, except Kraestrayn.  She's mine, all mine! (NOT LIKE THAT YOU SICKO!)

            Thank you to my lovely reviewers:

Ash- Glad you like it.  No problem with the e-mail thing.  I asked for a reason!

Sammie- Well, if you can find something different in here, I'll believe you.  It's definitely not "fluffy", but I'm not sure about the different and interesting part.  Then again, I'm not the reader; I'm just the writer.  Yeah, the name can get confusing, but that SHOULD be the only original character.  There may be more, but only if I get really bored and have nothing else to do.

Happy reading!  I'll meet you at the bottom.

Chapter 4

             Ron, Hermione, and Harry trudged down the hallway, heaving the large trunk along with them.

            "Jeezus, 'Mione, what have you got in here?" asked Ron, grunting as he re-adjusted the trunk in his hands.  "A brick wall?"

            "No!" she replied, vexed.  "In there are my school robes, dress robes, everyday robes, muggle clothing, three or four pairs of shoes, hair care products, hygiene products…"

            "Aren't those the same thing?" Harry interrupted, revealing how clueless the Boy Who Lived really was.  Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes for the tenth time in the past two hours.

            "Harry, do you know nothing?  Hygiene products are things such as soap, toothbrushes, toothpaste, scrub brushes, etc.  Hair care products are a completely different category!"

            "Of course.  How silly of me to forget," answered Harry, shrugging his shoulders at Ron behind Hermione's back.  She was holding the front of the trunk behind her while walking forward.  The boys held either side.

            "Anyway, as I was saying, I've also got in there my chocolate stash, school supplies, and books.  That's about it, really."

            "Exactly how many books do you have in here?" 

            "Oh, I don't know.  It's a mixture of muggle literature and magic books.  Let's see… There's Hogwarts: A History, all my text books, a compilation of Jane Austen books, Quidditch Through the Ages, The Once and Future King, Huckleberry Finn, my own copy of Moste Potente Potions, Ancient Prophecies and Why They're False, Constellations and Their Meanings, Les Miserables, The Outsiders, and the complete set of books by Gilderoy Lockhart."

            Ron's eyes widened.  "You've still GOT those books?  After what we know about him?"

            "…Yes…"

            "Why?"

            "They make for interesting reading.  I realize that he was a bit, er, eccentric, but the ideas of the books are fascinating!  At least we know that they're true, except for the fact that he's in them, of course.  We can actually learn how to defeat a werewolf from reading these books!"

            "Werewolves aren't all bad, and they don't always need to be defeated," retorted Harry, coming to the defense of Remus Lupin.  "Remus was alright."

            "He was more than alright.  He was the most brilliant Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher we ever had!  Well, except Moody."

            "Wait a minute," Harry exclaimed loudly, causing them to drop the trunk.  "Who's our teacher this year?  There was no one new at the table yesterday."

            "I'm not sure," replied Hermione.  "I suppose we'll just have to find out once we get to class on Monday."

            "I hope it's someone good.  I mean, fifth year we had Figg, but she died part way through because of You-Know-Who.  Last year, we had Ulster, who as bad as Lockhart, only without the fame and," he shuddered, "smile."

             They turned a corner, and Hermione stopped.  "This is it," she said.  The trio stood in front of a portrait of a beautiful woman wearing a dark green robe with a pale green see-through overcoat.  Her long red-brown hair fell straight down her back and covered all of her ears, except for the tips, which poked out from underneath the shining veil.  They were pointed.  Two mismatched eyes stared at them, one green, and the other deep purple.

            "Who IS that?" inquired Ron, slack-jawed.      

            "I am Morgan le Fay, daughter of Igraine the Beautiful," answered the painting.  She looked to Hermione.  "Password?"

            "Gumdrops."

            Morgan swung the painting open, revealing the entrance to the Heads' dormitory.  Harry, Ron and Hermione walked in, and the door shut behind them.  They stood in a common room, almost as large as that of Gryffindor, with a roaring fire in the fireplace, two couches and four chairs spread out across the room, two desks at opposite ends of the room, and on the wall opposite them was a large marble staircase, leading up before branching off in separate directions.  The door on the left bore a carving of a huge snake, while the door on the right bore a carving of a rearing lion.  The door at the center of the staircase was unmarked.  This was undoubtedly the bathroom.

            "Wow," breathed Ron.

            "What?  It's not much different from the Tower."

            "It's a LOT different from Gryffindor Tower, Hermione.  For one thing, it's quiet.  For another, it's fancier."

            "Hm.  Right then, up the stairs!"  The boys groaned as Hermione picked up her end of the trunk and moved forward once more.  Struggling, they reached the top of the stairs and opened the door to Hermione's room.  The first thought that came to her mind was, _At least I won't forget that I'm a Gryffindor_.  The entire room was painted crimson.  The head of the four-poster bed was against one wall.  The curtains on the bed and the window were gold, and the bed covers displayed crimson with a gold trim.  A gold-colored wardrobe sat against another wall, beside a gold bookcase.  A gold chair with crimson trim was pushed against the wall opposite the bed, facing it.

            "It's, um, very…Gryffindor-ish…"said Harry slowly.

            "Got that right," added Ron.

            "Well, I think I'm settled enough.  Thank you, you two, for helping me with my trunk.  I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow morning."  She saw the boys to the portrait hole before turning around to head back up to her room.  She was stopped at the top of the stairs before turning right by Malfoy, who had come out of his room after Harry and Ron had left.

            "Got rid of your boyfriends, Granger?" he sneered.

            "Neither one of them is my boyfriend, thank you very much.  Also, unless you are blind, which I sometimes don't doubt, you can see that they are quite obviously gone."

            "I'm surprised I'm not blind, after having to look at you."

            "Please, Malfoy, if that's the best you can do, leave me alone and let me organize my bedroom."

            "No one's stopping you, Granger.  The more you stay out of my sight, the better."

            "Need I remind you that, for God only knows what reason, YOU were the one that wanted to share a dormitory?"

            "My reason was simple: You DIDN'T want it.  My goal is to make you as miserable as possible."

            "I've given up trying to understand your Neanderthalic mind," Hermione retorted, beginning to walk up the stairs.

            Malfoy glared at her.  "Need I remind YOU, Granger, of which of us is the Pureblood here?  ME.  That would make YOU the Neanderthal, not me."

            "For making Head Boy, you have a lot to learn."  Hermione closed the door to her room and sat on her bed.  Crookshanks, whom she had brought up previously, moved beside her and nudged her hand.  Absent-mindedly, Hermione petted the cat, talking to herself all the while.  "He thinks he knows everything, doesn't he, baby?  Well, I'm just going to have to show him how little he really does know.  I'll make him see that pure blood isn't everything.  He'll see."

A/N:  This chapter was kinda long, compared to my others… I wonder what Hermione has planned…

            Don't forget to review!  I'd love to hear what you thought about this!  Also, if you have any ideas about what I could do in the future, feel free to submit them.  It might help me update faster, since I'm brain-dead.  I have one or two ideas, but I can't put them into effect until later.

            As always, leave your e-mail address if you want me to let you know when I update.  For those of you who have already given me your address, don't worry about it, you're already on my list.

Toodles!

~§ Aindel §~       


	6. Morning

A/N: Okay, I owe you guys this.  I haven't written for a while, but trust me, I have a reason.  I've been loaded down with homework, I'm trying to write a book (which isn't going well, since I've been on page 2 of chapter 1 since last summer…), and just life in general.

Thank you to my reviewers, and sorry.

 Trillium- You LIKE Lucius? *Cough cough* I mean, sure I'll put more of him in there.  I plan on it.  That's all I'm going to say on that subject.  You also like my rants.  You truly are an odd person.  But that's okay, because so am I.  Lastly, NEVER mention 'Bambi eyes' to a Disney fan.  I can go on for hours.  And trust me, that is one rant you never want to hear.

Eyce Queen- Glad you like it.  I'm not sure if I do or not.  It's always good to have the opinion of authors you like.  I can't quite remember why…

Rem123- Wow.  That was…short…and to the point…I guess.  Write more next time, so I can focus on the parts you love the most!

Telpe Nar Roccar- Nice name.  I recognize it.  What is it again?  Anyway, I'm happy that you think it isn't typical, because I think it is.  Hehe…define 'soon'.  Is a little less than a month "soon"?

            Right, so that's my thank-you's done.  Now, since I have nothing else to say, I will continue on to the disclaimer and story.

DISCLAIMER: In the words of a friend of mine, own nada.

Chapter 5

            Narcissa Malfoy curtsied low in front of her husband and the cloaked figure.  She did not know whom it was he had brought home with him, but they seemed to be very important; Lucius never looked quite as uneasy as he did now.  The hooded figure stepped forward, and nodded to Narcissa.  Lucius snapped his fingers, and a house elf appeared.

            "Take the Lady to the guest chamber.  Now!"

            The house elf shuddered, but obeyed the order.  The black cloak billowed silently as Kraestrayn followed the elf down a hallway, and disappeared.  Lucius let out a sigh and turned to his wife.

            "That, my dear, before you ask, was our new Lady.  She is very temperamental, so I would advise you stay away from her as much as you possibly can.  You must call her Lady or Mistress.  She is to succeed where the Dark Lord failed."  Lucius paused, letting this sink into her head.  "She is also a Changer."

            "A Changer?  You can't be serious?  The power of the Changers was lost thousands of years ago."

            "So we thought.  It seems that information was incorrect."

            "Do the others know of her?"

            "What's left of them.  She killed Avery, too, simply by flicking her hand at him.  She's powerful.  Very powerful."

            "I should tend to the Mistress, make sure she has everything she needs.  It wouldn't do to have the Lady lacking anything."  She turned to go.

            "Narcissa!" Lucius called out to her as she left.  "This changes nothing."  His wife nodded, and disappeared.

                                                                       ***** 

            "This is a complicated pattern to weave, sisters."

            "Indeed, but the pattern was not of our choosing.  It never was.  We are simply the weavers of it."

            "It will be interesting to look at when it is finished."

            Orddu looked over to Orwen.  "That may be a long time yet, Orwen.  We cannot say."

            "It is the same for the others," added Orgoch.  "The clouds of darkness make it hard to see a sunset."

            "My dear Orgoch, I believe you are out of yourself today.  That is the most unlikely thing for you to say."

            "Indigestion," the cloaked one replied.  "You never cook your frogs right."

                                                                   *****  

            It was Hermione's job to pass out the timetables to the students at breakfast on Monday.  She ran up and down the Gryffindor table, her large pile of papers depleting with every run she made.  After ten minutes of mayhem, she could finally sit down with her friends and eat.

            "So, 'Mione, what classes do we have today?" Ron asked before biting a piece of toast.

            "Ron, your schedule's right in front of you, why don't you just look at it?"

            "Because I'm trying to eat, and I figured that you had already memorized it anyway."  A bit of egg yolk dripped down his chin as he finished eating.

            "Oh, for goodness' sake, Ron, get a napkin!  Don't you sit there laughing, Harry!  It's not funny, it's disgusting!"

            Harry took off his glasses and wiped his eyes, still chuckling.  No matter what happened, Hermione would always be the same.  It seemed like a morning ritual for Hermione to correct Ron, or admonish him for something.  Harry picked up his schedule and glanced down the columns.  "We've got herbology first thing, then potions…"

            "With the Slytherins?"

            "Yeah.  But it's not double, so that's a good thing."

            "If you say so.  What else?"

            "We've got double Defense against the Dark Arts after."

            "Good.  Then we can find out who the new teacher is.  You'll notice he's still not here."

            The three of them glanced at the table.   

            "Wait a minute," said Ron.  "There are two empty chairs, and only the Dark Arts professor missing.  Who's the other one for?"

            "I don't know," replied Harry (he seems to say that an awful lot, doesn't he?).

            "I suppose we'll just have to find out."

            They finished their breakfast, and hurried off to their first class.

   A/N: Guess who the DADA teacher is.  Go ahead, guess.  I bet you'll never get it!  The first person to get it (if any) gets the chapter dedicated to them.  My friends are allowed to be a part of this, because even they don't know.

            I don't believe I need to lecture you once more on the importance of reviewing.

            I'm sorry that chapter was short and pointless, but I needed a filler, and it was the best I could come up with.  Deal with it.  Try to guess what Hermione has planned, too.  I love guessing games! 

Toodles.

~§ Aindel §~

…I may be adding on to my name, but the Aindel will stay in it so you can find me.


	7. My computer lives to make me mad IMPORTA...

This is not a chapter.  This is an author's note, which will be placed onto both of my Harry Potter fan fictions.  

I WILL WARN YOU ALL NOT TO READ PAST THIS POINT IN THE NOTE, OR INTO FURTHER CHAPTERS, IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE FIFTH BOOK.

yOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

WHY IS MY COMPUTER STILL tyPING IN CAPITALS WHEN MY CAPS LOCK ISN'T ON AND i don't have my finger on the shift key?  help!  Please?  somebody?

Right then, i guess this will have to be entirely capitalized.  stupid computer.  now i know why i normally use the computer upstairs.

But that isn't the point of this note (btw, if there are any spelling errors, i apologize.  the program doesn't check capital spellings for some reason…).  i would simply like to say that things in this fic will still go my way, and if i have previously stated THINGS THAT proved to be untrue (figg as dada teacher, for instance), I'm not going to change them.  People who are now dead *coughblackcough* (god, this is annoying.  dumb machine), may die in the fic, they may not.  it depends on my mood.  I'll probably kill him off, for kicks as well as simplicity (i hate complexity.  computers are complex), but i may decide to be kind and have something else done to him.  Dunno what.

I will update when i feel like it, and not a moment before.  after reading ootf, i have some new ideas, so expect a boom of chapters within the next couple days (maybe).  i'm leaving on friday for myrtle beach (damn dance competition.  not me, my sister, but i still have to **watch** and it's **boring**) and i won't be back until late next sunday (obviously.  no one in their right mind from this part of the world would leave ona friday, get there saturday, spend a couple of hours there, and drive back for sunday.  that's just pointless).

Now that i have bored you all to death, and annoyed myself with over-capitalization, i will say farewell.

Toodles.

~§ AIndel Druida §~ 


	8. Defense Against the Dark Arts

A/N: I'm back from vacation.  Nice place, Myrtle Beach.  Few too many golf courses, though.  I was so afraid of being hit with a ball.  My sister did great!  She was second in her category, and third overall for Character Solos.  Showstoppers is an alright competition.  I'm just glad Julian wasn't there.  I mean, it was sad that his mother died, but he annoys me to no end.

            Anyway, a big thank-you to all of my reviewers:

Omni- YAY!  You read my story!  I might do that later, but I'm going to leave the sisters as minor characters for now, simply because that would be MAJOR confusing, and I have no ideas on how to do that without losing the attention of all my readers.  Happy early birthday, even though you won't be reading this for a while.  Have fun in China!

Magic Bunny- I love your fic!  Glad you like mine.  I'm still not sure I like it, but I'm getting there.

Andaisha- No, Dre, it is NOT Narcissa.  I don't think I even want to know where that idea came from.  But you will find out in this chapter.

Trillium- Who said Snape was going to be evil?  I don't plan on making him evil.  Have I even MENTIONED Snape in this fic yet?  I can't remember…But DON'T expect me to make him the misunderstood person who deserves another chance.  Because I won't.

            All that said, allow me to continue on to the rant of the day.  I love Pirates of the Caribbean!  That movie is the second best movie in the world (Newsies being the first.  Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, The Sound of Music, and all other movies I like follow after Pirates)!  Orlando Bloom rules!  So does Johnny Depp!  I want to be that bloody girl!  And I have yet to meet a person who doesn't like the song "Yo Ho (A Pirate's Life For Me)".  I can't wait until The Haunted Mansion comes out.  How many times will we get to hear "Grim Grinning Ghosts" (Also a great Disney ride song.  But "Yo Ho" still beats it)?  *Squeal* ORLANDO BLOOM!  Sorry, but that guy is great.  Not to say that Johnny isn't, because he's an excellent actor, steals the show, really, but the guy is 40!  I suppose it could be worse, though.  I mean, Sharon has that whole Snape thing…EW!  Alan Rickman is…52…I think.  THAT is gross.  I'm going to stop here, since my sister is bugging me to go listen tot her play the keyboard.

            …Wow.  That was…odd.  My sister has never taken a piano lesson, and she knows nothing about left hand, so she only plays the melody, and when she does that, it's really…jerky???  I don't know.  She plays it…hesitantly.  There we go.

            This is a long enough author's note, so toodles for now!

DISCLAIMER: No money is being made on this, I own nothing, yada schmada etc.

Chapter 7

            Everyone took their normal positions in the Potions classroom, Slytherins on the left side, Gryffindors on the right.  As always, Snape wasn't there, but no one dared to do anything rash, because that would be the exact moment the Potions master stormed in.  Hermione sat between Harry and Ron, quill in hand.  Absently, she traced invisible patterns across the parchment in front of her.  She jumped as the door swung open and Snape glided to the front of the classroom in a swish of black robes.

            "I will not go through the normal list of rules and expectations, though I am aware that half of you still need reminding.  This is your seventh and final year, and should you not prove yourself worthy, you will find yourself repeating the year next fall.  In the spring, you will face your NEWTs.  It is my job to see that you are adequately prepared for these examinations." He glanced over to the Gryffindors.  "I can only imagine how few of you will pass.

            "Your NEWTs demand that you know the highest level of potion-making allowed for your age.  This includes some illegal potions.  There are those," his eyes flickered over to Draco, "with whom I would trust any potion, but for those who are not trustworthy, I will be keeping an even closer eye.  Anyone caught misusing or stealing an illegal potion," the Potion master narrowed his eyes at Harry, who stared back defiantly, "will be expelled without question, will not sit their NEWTs, and will not graduate from Hogwarts.  I assure you that you will also be unemployed, or have a highly unsatisfactory employment."

            The rest of the class went on like this, with Snape looking proudly upon the Slytherins and glowering at the Gryffindors.  He outlined the rest of the week for them, and assigned the appropriate chapters for reading.  Finally, the bell rang, and students filed glumly out of the dungeons.

            "Why couldn't we have failed potions?" Ron complained.  "Why could that slimy git have tested us on our owls and failed us?  We all know he wanted to."

            "You should be happy you got an owl in potions.  Not many Gryffindors did," answered Hermione.

            "Hermione, there are only eight Gryffindors in our year (A/N: of the people we know.  Thoguh I doubt there's more.  They would have been mentioned at SOME point, wouldn't they?)!  The only person who didn't pass was Neville, and that was because he got two potions wrong."

            "Hm," was the only answer he got.

            Harry decided to change the subject before things got nasty.  "What do you think we'll be studying in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

            "Let's see, shall we.  The class is called Defense Against the Dark Arts.  I'll bet we're studying Muggle literature!  Isn't that a bit of a dumb question?" Ron said, laughing.

            "I meant specifically."

            "Oh."

            Hermione joined the conversation.  "And we still don't know who our teacher is."

            They reached the classroom and peered in.  The only people in there were the other Gryffindors, who had taken the short cut.  The trio sat in seats beside each other, so they could comfort each other if the teacher was horrible.  They glanced around the room, taking in the changes.  There were a few wooden crates on the counters at the back, along with a bundle of wands ("What on Earth would a person need with so many wands?" said Hermione), five sneakoscopes, and two lumpy brown sacks.  The few empty desks at the back were scattered with potion bottles of varying colours and viscosities.

            "Look!" exclaimed Harry.  "There're two chairs behind the desk!  We've either got two teachers, or a very large one."

            Ron looked toward the desk and choked.  "Yeah, and look at what's _on_ the desk!"

            Harry and Hermione stared at the desk.  "Ron," Hermione said curiously, "it's a sweets dish.  Maybe the teachers, or teacher, are diabetic."

            He chuckled.  "Somehow, 'Mione, I don't think so.  I'd recognize those sweets anywhere.  What I can't understand is why.  I mean, it's not likely at all…" He refused to say any more, despite his friends' efforts.  They didn't have to wait long though. 

            "Good morning, Seventh years," said an all too familiar voice.

            "Welcome back," said another.

            "Welcome back yourselves!" shouted Dean.

            "What in Merlin's name are the two of you doing here?" asked Ron.

            Fred and George Weasley mocked sadness.  "Now now, little brother," said George.  "Aren't you pleased to see us?"

            Fred motioned for silence.  When the class settled down, he began.  "You're probably all wondering why we're here, since we didn't _technically_ finish seventh year, and we've got a perfectly good joke shop in Diagon Alley."

            "The truth is," continued George, "we missed the old place.  Dumbledore was having trouble getting a teacher for this year, and he refused to let the Ministry choose one.  He looked over the requirements for this year, and apparently we came to his mind."

            "Can't imagine why."  The evil grin on Fred's face said otherwise.  "This year is a quick review of Defense spells you already knew, and a couple of new ones…"

            "Well, they would have been new if Harry hadn't taught them in fifth year."

            "That isn't the point.  This year plays strongly to the ideas of stealth, surprise, and improvisation."

            The class snickered for a few moments.  It was obvious now why they had been chosen as teachers, with all the sneaking they had done previously.  Harry thought of something.  "So who's running the shop, if you're here?"

            "Lee," answered Fred.  "He decided to go in with us after he didn't make it as a radio broadcaster for the Quidditch league."

            Ron looked nervously toward the back of the class.  "Erm, George…"

            "That's Professor Weasley to you, Ron."

            The younger Weasley rolled his eyes.  "I'm sure.  _No one_, not even the first years, is going to call you that."

            "True.  Anyway, you were saying something…?"

            "How much of the stuff back there is safe?"

            "All of it.  So long as you don't touch it.  I think."

            "We're not even sure what half of that is.  We just thought it looked interesting, so we grabbed some."

            Slowly, the class inched forward, away from the mysterious contents of the packages.

            "Right then," said George.  "Down to business…"

                                                                        *****

            "Your brothers.  Who would have thought?"

            "They didn't say _anything _over the summer!  I bloody well _live_ with them and I didn't know!  Can you believe that?"

            It was dinnertime, and Ron still hadn't gotten over the fact that his brothers were teaching DADA.  The Weasleys now joined the Head table for dinner, since their identities were known.

            "I don't see why it bothers you so much, Ron," said Ginny.  "They didn't tell me, either, but it doesn't bother me in the least."

            "But you know what the best part is?" Harry cut in.  "They'll really give the Slytherins what they deserve."

            Hermione sighed.  "As much as they would like to, Harry, it's highly unlikely that they'll do much.  I mean, they can't, really.  They'd lose their jobs."

            "They still have the joke shop."

            "But they won't sacrifice what trust Dumbledore gives them.  And don't expect them to let you get away with everything, either, because they won't."

            The students around her laughed aloud at the last remark.  "'Mione," Ron said between fits of laughter, "if you were talking about Bill or Charlie, I might believe you.  If it were Percy, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.  But _Fred and George_?  Ha!"

            Hermione simply shook her head.  Ron probably was right.  The twins would grab every opportunity to favor Gryffindor and torment the Slytherins.  And why not?  They deserved it, and Snape certainly treated the Gryffindors badly.  Her eyes wandered over to the Slytherin table, and rested on Draco Malfoy.  He deserved it more than any of the others.  _She_ planned on getting him back for the torture he put her through.  Every insult cost him a little more humiliation.  Of course, the things she did would certainly be within the school rules, but they would come very close to the line.  She couldn't afford to cross it.

            "'Mione!" shouted Harry for the fifth time.  Hermione snapped out of her thoughts.  "We're going to the Common Room to play Exploding Snap.  Want to come?"

            "No thanks.  I've got to head to the library for some research books.  Maybe another time."  She gathered her things, finished her last bite, and headed towards the exit.

            "That was a bit odd."

            Ginny stared blankly at her brother.  "It's Hermione.  I don't even want to know how you find it odd that she's spending her free time in the library." 

            "Good point."  Harry, Ron and Ginny rose from the table, and headed back to their Common Room.

                                                                        *****

            Orwen looked out the window of the cottage.  "I don't like the quiet of waiting, Orddu."

            "We must be patient, sister.  We are forbidden to interfere, unless it has been set out for us to."

            "We've done naught for nigh a thousand years!"

            "The time _will_ come, sisters; I promise you."

            "I'll do, and I'll do…"

            Orwen turned to Orgoch.  "Stop that!  That was a messy end brought upon them, when we interfered."

            "Aye, but the end was not our doing.  We told no more than we should have."

            "Indeed," agreed Orddu.  "The faults were their own.  It was meant to come to such an end."

            "Will this one be the same?"

            "We cannot say.  It is a matter of the choices."

                                                                        *****

            Harry wiped his forehead, which was covered in ash from the exploding cards.  "Why is it always _me_?" he complained.

            "Oh, come on, Harry.  It's not always you.  It's gotten me once, and Ron…Well, all right, so it hasn't gotten Ron."  A large grin could be seen on the older Weasley's face through the wisps of smoke rising from the table.

            "Maybe we'd better pack it in, before the Boy Who Lived suffers death by exploding playing cards."

            The three Gryffindors cleared the table of soot, magically healed their blistered hands, and said goodnight.  Half an hour later, Hermione stepped through the portrait hole, making sure no one was up past curfew.  When she was satisfied, she quietly closed the portrait and headed down the corridor.

            Hermione made her way toward the last set of stairs before her dormitory.  She gazed at the portraits lining the stairway, not paying attention to the path in front of her.  She bumped into something hard, and she fell sideways, the stairs rushing up to meet her.  Luckily, she put her hands out in time to prevent any major accidents.  She heard a thud, and knew whatever she had hit was now laying beside her on the cold stone steps.  Hermione turned her head to the left and gasped.  "Malfoy?  Are you all right?"

            Draco pushed himself up, and began brushing his robes off.  "I'm fine, no thanks to you, Mudblood.  Watch where you're walking.  There are people here who do not enjoy being thrashed about and bumped into, unlike you and your other mudblood friends, and your boyfriends."

            "If you would kindly step off your golden pedestal for a moment and help me up, it would be appreciated, though I can't figure out why I would ever ask for _your_ help."

            "I should think the answer was obvious: I'm irresistible.  Every girl at Hogwarts is in love with me."

            "Then I must be a duck, because your _charms_ don't seem to have any effect on me."

            The famous Malfoy smirk appeared on his face.  "We'll see about that."  He offered her his hand.  Cautiously she took it, expecting anything and everything to happen to her.  The moment she was standing, Draco retracted his hand.  "Happy?"

            "Not really, but that's all right.  Thank you."

            "Don't mention it.  And I mean _don't_ mention it.  At all.  If word got around that I helped someone up, a _mudblood_ for that matter, I'd lose everything."

            Hermione rolled her eyes.  "And we wouldn't want that, of course."

            "No, you wouldn't."

            Wordlessly, they walked to their dormitory, and into their separate rooms.  Both fell asleep instantly, the odd occurrence in the stairway lost on their unconscious minds.

A/N: Yes, that was indeed another rather pointless chapter.  But now you know who the new teachers are, so it can't have been all THAT pointless. 

Yay!  I actually succeeded in writing a long chapter!  All hail me!

Small memo: The line thingy in the witches' bit was from Macbeth.  Can't remember its exact location, but it's before one of the meetings with Macbeth.

Let me know what you think.  Suggestions are always appreciated.

Toodles.

~§ Aindel Druida §~   


	9. Soap

A/N: Howdy all!  Yeah, it's been a while, but I've been busy.  With stuff.  Really I have.  This is NOT a pathetic excuse for being lazy, I assure you.  Heh.

Thank you to my reviewers:

Omnifarious- You know, Omni was a lot easier to type.  I've been trying to make them hint at doom for a while, but they just don't seem to want to co-operate.  Their part always seems to come out differently from what I planned…Wish you could have shared the cake!  It looked really good.

Andaisha- You bet I've read it more!  Most people don't read it unless they have to, but I've read it three times already, and I bought it a couple weeks ago!

Trillium- Good for you.  It is our sworn duty to threaten those who insult our dear Orlando, like Daisha here.  I love Fred and George too.  That's why they're here.  Plus it was either that or create my own character, which I prefer not to do, lest I should fall into the doom that is Mary-Sue-ism.

Yippee for you three!  You have searched yourselves for the knowledge and wisdom to find the review button.  You have succeeded where so many have failed.

A warning to you all: This is being written with my light on.  That is not a good thing.  I can't turn my light off because I don't have my glasses, and it will ruin my eyes even more.  I normally write in the dark.  This chapter will probably suck.

DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it from somewhere else, it probably isn't mine.  If it is mine, I didn't copy it, I swear!

Chapter 8

            Hermione sat in front of her mirror, yanking her comb furiously through her bushy hair.  She jumped slightly when Draco Malfoy barged into her room without knocking, looking more than slightly peeved.

            "Where's my soap?" he demanded.

            Hermione lifted her eyebrows in response.  "Your soap?  Why would I have your soap?  For that matter, why do you even _need _soap?  There are bubble taps on the bath."

            "I know perfectly well what the taps on the bath do, Mudblood.  It just so happens that I come prepared in case they are malfunctioning, which they seem to be doing at the moment.  Once again, where is my soap?"

            "Once again," she retorted, "Why.  Would.  I.  Have.  Your.  Soap?"

            "Probably an attempt to rid yourself of your filth, which hasn't worked by the way."

            "For your information, I bring my own soap.  Soap that I make myself, I might add."  Hermione moved to the bottom drawer of the dresser and pulled out a blue bar of soap.  "Here, use this one.  I haven't used it, so you don't have to worry about being contaminated."

            "I'm _not_ going to use a bar of soap that _you_ made.  It'll probably give me boils or something."

            "Suit yourself.  Go dirty then.  It makes no difference to me."

            Growling and muttering under his breath, Draco snatched the bar of soap from Hermione's hand, and headed back toward his bathroom.  She waited until he had closed the bathroom door before sitting back down at the mirror and pulling open the top drawer.  Hermione smiled mischeviously at the bar of "Mervin's Magical Soap" lying half-hidden by hair ties on the bottom.

                                                                        ***** 

            The class burst into fits of laughter as Draco walked into Potions that morning.  He glared at them all before taking his seat and staring miserably at the table.  Hermione smiled at him.  "Poor Draco!  Are you depressed today?  A bit _blue _perhaps?"

            "Stow it, Mudblood.  This is all your fault.  You and your homemade soaps!"

            "You're right, it is.  But they don't all do that.  Just that one.  I made it especially for you.  Here's your soap, if you want it.  But don't bother trying to scrub the dye off; it won't work."  Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out Draco's soap.  She tossed it to him just as Snape walked in.

            "Detention, Miss Granger!  Throwing things in classrooms is not permitted."

            Hermione sighed.  She had detention with Snape now, but it was worth it.  Seeing Draco Malfoy with bright blue skin could make anyone's day better, except maybe his.

                                                                        *****

            Hermione returned from her detention just after ten o'clock that evening.  Draco was seated in front of the fire, reading a book.  The glow of the flame flickered oddly against his blue skin.  He glared daggers at her when she walked in.

            "I hope Snape made you do something horrible, Mudblood."

            "No, not really.  Scrubbing cauldrons isn't all that bad.  And the store cupboard wasn't that messy."

            This only worsened Draco's mood.  "I can't believe you dared to do this to me!  I'm a Malfoy.  You should be groveling at my feet, begging for me not to kill you for this!"

            "Hm," answered Hermione.  "Quite obviously I'm not, and I don't plan to at all.  If you planned on killing me, you would have done so already.  But of course, even you're not stupid enough to kill me here.  Besides, I'm sure your family's killed for less.  Or nothing at all," she added scathingly. 

            Draco threw the book down and stood up.  "Those who die don't deserve to live.  They're useless, worthless beings!  Just like you, Mudblood."

            Hermione snarled back.  "You don't get it, do you?  Blood means nothing!  I'm ahead of you in every subject.  In no way am I mutilated or malformed, not that that means anything at all.  There is nothing that makes a Pureblood better than a Muggle-born!  Nothing!  What am I going to have to do to make you see that?"

            Draco had no answer.  He simply glared at her as she let out one last frustrated scream and headed up to her room to take a bath.

                                                                        *****

            _I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!_ Hermione thought as she soaked in the hot water and bubbles that filled her bathtub.  _Though seeing him completely blue was worth it.  I love being able to make my own soap._

            It was indeed true that Hermione made her own soap.  She had stumbled across a recipe one day while surfing the Internet at home.  She'd decided to try it out, and found it to be a lot of fun.  Since then, Hermione had begun to experiment with different scents, textures, and colours.  Normally, she would use a natural dye that wouldn't soak into your skin, but being around the Weasleys so much had inspired her to make a few bars of the muggle "prank soap".  Clearly, it worked well enough.  She made a mental note to thank Malfoy later for so kindly being a test subject for her product.

            Hermione stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in her fluffy beige towel.  She wrung out her hair and stepped into her room.  She put on her pyjamas, which consisted of an old t-shirt and flannel pants, grabbed a book from her bookshelf, and headed downstairs to the common room.  Draco was still down there, immersed in him book.  Both students ignored the presence of the other for a while.  Suddenly, Draco spoke up.  "Purebloods are better because they have more money."

            Hermione responded without looking up.  "From what I know, the Creeveys are quite well off."  Draco was once again without a response, so they lapsed into silence once more.  

            When the large clock in the room struck eleven, Hermione shut her book.  "I'm heading to bed.  Goodnight, Malfoy."  He only grunted in response.  "Don't stay up too late."

            "Why do you care how late I stay up?"

            "I don't, really.  But I'm sure you want to get up early enough to take a nice, long bath."  She stepped quickly to the stairs before turning around.  "And remember:  If you lose your soap again, you can always ask to use one of mine."  Hermione ran up the stairs before Draco could do anything nasty to her.  Smiling, she flopped onto her bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

A/N:  That's all for now, folks.  Yes, I know this is horribly slow moving, but I promise you it will get fluffier later.  For now, just enjoy images of a blue Draco.  Literally.  I'm not sure where that came from, but I like it, so it stays.

Suggestions are appreciated!  I'm not quite sure where this is going, so I'm always thankful for directions.

Until next chapter,

Aindel S. Druida  


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